


To Perform or Take Part In

by blehgah



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, but lbr soonyoung's the Bigger Brat, chan's a bit of a brat, i didn't edit this either oops, just a lil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 05:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blehgah/pseuds/blehgah
Summary: Soonyoung and Chan have a back and forth type of relationship in front of the cameras, but at the end of the day, they know their true places. Based on that bit at the end of OFD2 ep1 where Chan is too tired to play with Soonyoung.





	To Perform or Take Part In

“I’m tired, hyung,” Chan complains, barely sparing Soonyoung a glance. He pulls away from Soonyoung’s touch with unnerving ease. “Go to sleep, c’mon.”

Huffing a sigh, Soonyoung stalks over to where he knows the camera is.

“Ah… I think our maknae is going through puberty,” he says to the camera. “Dino’s going through puberty.”

Chan snorts in the distance. Soonyoung throws a look over his shoulder just to check if Chan was looking at him, but he is only disappointed: it seems that Chan is completely engrossed in whatever’s happening on his phone.

Soonyoung sighs again. He stalks around the room for a minute or two, his hands on his hips over his robe. When he looks over at Chan again, one last time, Chan is still on his phone with a blank expression on his face.

Scowling now, Soonyoung returns to the camera. He gives it a wave.

“Edit this out, yeah?” he says to it. Then he grabs a nearby towel and throws it over the lens.

This time, when Soonyoung turns to face his roommate, Chan is looking up at him.

“Hyung?” he asks. The syllable is slow and cautious—and knowing, somehow.

They’ve done this song and dance before. They’ve quite literally done this song and dance, and maybe that’s what started this all. They know each other’s bodies so intimately that this, certainly, was an inevitable outcome—right?

A small touch evolves without much trouble. A small touch evolves from casual to intentional; it grows with intent and transforms into bodiless desire when unrestrained. And after time passed, after they persisted to learn each other’s every nook and cranny, their reins snapped like twine and freed them.

Soonyoung throws his robe on the floor as he approaches Chan’s bed, his steps carefully measured. The cotton hits the ground with a muted  _ thump, _ but it crashes in the sudden, viscous quiet.

Chan puts his phone down. Slowly, he sits up, leaning back on his elbows, a deer in headlights.

“Hyung,” he says quietly. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean it. You know that.”

Snorting, Soonyoung stops in his tracks. He draws himself up high and taut.

“Oh, no—don’t lie to me, Chan,” he purrs. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, posing for the camera all day. Being all handsome and cute for our dear carats. You must be  _ so _ tired.”

Chan swallows and the sound of his throat contracting echoes in the room.

Soonyoung is damp from his recent shower and his skin glows eerie-yellow in the lamp light. Shadows crawl over the landscape of his face, deep in the grooves of his eyes and dark in the lines around his mouth. He is fearsome but at once beautiful.

Chan’s breath gets caught in his throat.

“Listen,” Chan says lowly, regaining control over his tongue with a willful fist, “we can front for the cameras all we want later. When it’s just us—and you’re hardly wearing anything—” He gestures limply at the boxers around Soonyoung’s hips. “I don’t—I don’t have the energy to pretend.”

For a second, the air loosens up. The atmosphere fractures for moment as Soonyoung considers this.

Then he smirks. Fire floods the cracks in the atmosphere and Chan starts to sweat bullets across the back of his neck.

Soonyoung continues his advance until he’s got one knee on the bed, and then the other. When he settles his weight over Chan’s thighs, heat washes over them both. It’s like sinking into molten lava; it’s like coming home.

“You know what to say to make me feel good,” Soonyoung murmurs, running a hand down the curve of Chan’s cheek.

Chan smiles for the first time since he’s settled into bed.

By now, Chan knows how Soonyoung ticks. He knows Soonyoung’s all soft on the inside: he’s full of affection, stuffed to burst with sweet cotton candy, but at the same time, he can be susceptible to even the dullest of barbs, harmless jabs that people throw around without a second thought.

The funny thing is, Soonyoung is pretty self-aware. He’s not perfect—that’s asking the impossible—but he knows he can be easily swayed by both anger and fondness.

Chan’s hands find their usual spot upon Soonyoung’s shoulders. They’re broader now—more to grip now, and Chan has definitely indulged in sinking his fingers in the flesh there time and time again.

“I try my best,” Chan whispers back.

It only takes a second: Soonyoung pins Chan to the pillows with a palm to the base of his throat. Chan’s breath rattles in his lungs and stays there for a second or two too long. The weight, the pressure, he feels it immediately in the basin of his pelvis.

“As long as you know I’m  _ tired _ too,” Soonyoung hisses. He drops low to whisper against Chan’s ear, his breath harsh and hot. “I’m  _ tired _ too, Channie, and I was hoping to ease off the stress by playing with my dear maknae.”

Soonyoung’s fingers dig valleys into Chan’s collar.

“So you’re feeling camera-shy—fine.” Soonyoung tilts his head back and looks at Chan down the line of his nose. “But you’ll play with me now that it’s just us, right?”

Chan nods mutely. Soonyoung’s hold relaxes. He drags soft fingertips over the lines of Chan’s shoulders, tracing his skin through his shirt.

“Good boy,” Soonyoung murmurs.

That’s a weakness of Chan’s and Soonyoung might abuse it more often than he ought to. Chan goes pliant at the praise, and maybe the ease with which he presents his vulnerabilities to Soonyoung should scare him, but that’s the saving grace of time—growing up with Soonyoung, growing under his guidance, has made this second-nature.

And it feels good. It feels good to please Soonyoung, to know he can have that kind of impact on his hyung. It feels good to have any kind of sway over Soonyoung, someone who’s been such a pivotal presence in Chan’s life, and it feels good because Soonyoung lets it happen.

Soonyoung crawls higher up Chan’s chest, allowing Chan to pull the blankets away. The rush of cold is stark but brief; it doesn’t take long for Soonyoung to soothe the goosebumps that rise in the wake of cool air. He slides back down the length of Chan’s body and fits the weight of his thighs over Chan’s hips.

Soonyoung’s thighs are another common hand-hold for Chan. He’s been witness to a lot of change there, measurable by the length of his fingers and the depth at which they sink.

Sometimes he misses the days when Soonyoung’s thighs were sturdy barriers against Chan’s hips, but as long as Soonyoung’s happy with them, he can’t complain.

“Off now,” Soonyoung says with a short tug at Chan’s shirt.

Chan obeys without a word. He pulls his shirt over his head and settles it on the side of the bed.

Skin to skin now, the heat in the room compounds; sweat drips down the side of Soonyoung’s face and Chan uses it to trace the shape of Soonyoung’s neck with his eyes.

Quietly, expectantly, Chan looks up at Soonyoung.

Soonyoung hums. His touch is feather-light as he trails his fingers over the newly exposed skin and his expression is calm, somewhere in the territory of serene, as he dips his fingertips in the lines of Chan’s chest and stomach. With every ghostly caress, Chan feels his breath grow short. He’s helpless at Soonyoung’s hands: despite the measured pressure of Soonyoungs touch, the contact restrains him and pins him in place.

Soonyoung hums again, this time with the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“See,” he says, “I already feel better. I feel—relaxed.” 

He braces both hands on either side of Chan’s chest and rests his thumbs just slightly against both of Chan’s nipples. Chan’s breath stutters in his throat.

“You know you’re mine, right?” he asks. His words drip with honey even if their shape is hardly so sweet.

“Yes, hyung,” Chan replies obediently.

Soonyoung’s smile sharpens into a smirk.

“Good boy.”

He flicks the already hardening buds of Chan’s nipples, wrenching a hiss from Chan’s chest, before soothing them with a gentle caress. It goes on like that, an erratic back and forth of harsh then soft.

Chan can’t help it: he bucks his hips just a few inches off the bed. The movement jostles Soonyoung a bit higher onto Chan’s stomach.

“Aw, so precious,” Soonyoung coos. He gives both nipples a pinch and Chan’s hips twitch again. “You want more, baby?”

It takes Chan a second to reply. His words bunch up in the back of his throat before they spill out of his mouth: “Y-Yes, hyung, ah—yes.”

Soonyoung chuckles. He slides down Chan’s stomach, dragging his ass over Chan’s dick as he passes, and settles between Chan’s legs. His touch is light again when he runs his fingertips lower, lower, lower.

He stops at the waistband of Chan’s underwear.

“You’ve been a good boy for me so far, but this is for me,” Soonyoung says. “If people see that footage—if people see you acting out to me, your hyung—then what will that say about me, huh?”

Chan trembles. He takes a deep breath before sitting up on his elbows.

“If—” Chan starts, but he stops to swallow. His throat is like sandpaper, though it does nothing to smooth his voice. “If this is for you, hyung, then you shouldn’t think about what other people will think, even if they see that or not.”

Soonyoung looks up at him. His eyes are dark; they are gravity wells keeping Chan rooted in place.

“Yeah?” Soonyoung prompts him.

Chan can’t look away, but his heart hammering in his chest feels like a warning sign.

“People can think what they want, you know, but—if you want something, you know I’ll give it to you,” Chan replies on a shaky breath.

Soonyoung quirks an eyebrow. 

“You’re full of shit,” Soonyoung says around a laugh. He lowers his head so Chan can’t see his eyes—and at the same time, he drops a hand to Chan’s cock and squeezes roughly.

Chan gasps so loudly it echoes in the room. 

“You’re a brat,” Soonyoung continues, but his words come out tired rather than frustrated. He rubs a firm thumb over the spot where his head meets the shaft and Chan gasps again, his hips twitching. “You’re a brat, but you’re my brat. You know it’s my job to keep your head from getting too big, right?”

This time, it’s Chan who smirks.

“Yeah, right,” he breathes. His voice barely squeezes out of his throat, but it catches Soonyoung’s attention nonetheless. The weight of Soonyoung’s gravity bears down on him; Chan relishes in it. “How can you do that when your head can barely pass through the door, huh?”

A grin splits Soonyoung’s face in half. He presses the tip of his thumb into that spot, applying pressure until Chan can only squirm.

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” Soonyoung states. He presses until it starts to hurt, but Chan doesn’t move. His legs might be shaking, but he doesn’t move. “I like a challenge—you know that.”

Chan does know that. It’s probably why they’ve kept this up for so long. Years, now.

It’s been fun.

When Soonyoung lets up, Chan heaves a breath of relief. His legs continue to shake, and to distract himself from the tingles making a home in his muscles, Chan bends his legs at the knee and digs his heels into the bed. He lifts his hips up into Soonyoung’s hand and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Show me what you got,” Chan says.

Soonyoung’s grin shifts, losing whatever softness remains in favour of hard-edged, predatory hunger.

In one swift slide of limbs, Soonyoung gets to his feet. He kicks off his boxers before going straight for Chan’s. His erection catches on the fabric before bouncing back against his stomach with a  _ slap. _

Soonyoung comes down on Chan like heavy rain, a tumultuous hurricane, pressing their lips together with no care for the cut of his teeth. Chan meets him halfway and gives what he can with his weight pinned down by Soonyoung’s enormous presence—and it feels good, dammit. It feels good to bend under Soonyoung’s will, but it feels just as good to bend around it, to dodge what he can and parry what he can’t.

Soonyoung’s silver tongue hardens to a sharp edge in Chan’s mouth and his hands rake lines up the insides of Chan’s thighs. He digs his fingers behind Chan’s knees and holds him there, just to feel him, and both of Chan’s legs tremble when their skin meets.

As much as Chan feels like he might splinter at the edges or crumble in himself, he trusts Soonyoung not to push him off the edge. On the receiving end of all this, of all of Soonyoung, it might feel like losing, but the power balance between them is never black and white: Soonyoung may be all brute force, but Chan was the one who baited him here—he’s the one who’s strung Soonyoung along.

Soonyoung lays kisses down the expanse of Chan’s thigh before sinking his teeth into the flesh there. He leaves behind bright red marks, angry circles, before arriving at his prize. There is no hesitation or patience as he takes Chan’s cock as far as he can in one go.

The sounds coming from Soonyoung’s lips are obscene and Chan is getting dizzier by the second. Moaning shamelessly, desperately, Chan buries both his hands in Soonyoung’s hair and holds him there. He bucks up as much as he can from his position on his back; satisfaction sparks a fire in his stomach as he listens to the choked noises Soonyoung makes.

“Fuck—Soonyoung—” Chan gasps, and then it’s not much longer until he comes against the back of Soonyoung’s throat.

Soonyoung swallows, but some of it escapes. Come spills from the sides of his mouth down to his chin, and when he looks up at Chan, absolutely wrecked, Chan can feel his hips twitch again.

“Brat,” Soonyoung says again. Somehow, there’s fondness there, despite his choice of words, despite the hoarse quality of his voice.

Chan pants but manages a smirk. Satisfaction buzzes in his stomach in every sense of the word, and it only multiplies as Soonyoung wipes his face with the back of his hand. 

Soonyoung takes a couple seconds to catch his breath. His lips shine wetly in the yellow lamp light, red dancing with yellow, flanked by the pink glow in his cheeks. Observing him sends a flutter in Chan’s chest, a contrastively warm, affectionate presence in the burning heat of desire flaring within Chan’s ribs.

It isn’t long before Soonyoung’s eyes cut into him with intent.

“Baby,” Soonyoung coos, soft and sweet while used and hungry, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Soonyoung takes hold of Chan’s still-hard cock and rubs his thumb around the head. Hissing, Chan can’t help but buck into his touch.

A sharp intake of breath. “Like I said,” Chan growls, “show me what you got.”

Soonyoung giggles. His cheeks are so pink in the low light. His face is a collection of smudged, warm hues, velvet draped over the sharp edges of a steel trap.

Chan’s blood hums with interest though his limbs are weak with sensation. His skin buzzes, his nerves crack and spark, his breath hitches when Soonyoung removes his hand to spit on it. His brain fizzles with a  _ pop _ as Soonyoung poises above him with intent.

“Hyung—” Chan whines, a high squeak in his throat. Soonyoung moans as he sinks onto Chan’s dick.

Chan’s head swims with heat, but Soonyoung’s hands clamp over his shoulders, cold metal wrenching him back into reality.

The tight pressure around his over-sensitive cock is too much; it almost hurts. Pins and needles prick over his skin. But the cutting edge of Soonyoung’s silver gaze keeps him grounded. A soothing cooling balm that leaves tingles in its wake.

Soonyoung’s hands are a hot contrast to the weight of his eyes over Chan’s face when he pins Chan’s shoulders to the pillows. They’re a wide and warm collar around the ring of Chan’s throat, enough in the absence of a real one, and Soonyoung’s power over him is enough context to fill in the blanks: the curve of his thumb presses down, down, down, not quite enough to bruise but Chan knows his place in all this, has always known.

There’s not enough breath in Chan’s lungs to enable speech. Soonyoung pulls it out of him with every stroke, every slide of his hips engulfing Chan’s cock over and over. As Chan starts to shake, approaching his next orgasm, Soonyoung shifts a hand up and rests it against Chan’s throat.

“Gonna come again, baby?” Soonyoung asks.

His voice bounces around the room. Chan heaves a shuddering breath and nods.

Humming, Soonyoung stops moving. A whimper clatters through Chan’s chest, but he doesn’t have the breath to protest much further than that. Soonyoung moves his weight onto his knees, and from his new perch over Chan’s stomach, he uses the hand on Chan’s neck to pull him upright.

“Open your mouth for me,” Soonyoung says.

Chan swallows just to wet his throat. He soon finds that his body is eager to compensate once Soonyoung crawls over his shoulders and aims his swollen erection towards Chan’s waiting lips: his mouth waters at the thought of having Soonyoung finish against the back of his throat.

“Good boy,” Soonyoung coos, and that’s enough to tempt Chan forward and wrap his lips around Soonyoung’s cock.

The weight against his tongue soothes the pinpoints dancing across his skin, but when Soonyoung settles over Chan’s shoulders, shaking enough to rattle both their skeletons, the brief feeling of relief dissipates. 

“Fuck, Chan,” Soonyoung breathes. He buries both hands into Chan’s hair and tugs him closer. Chan obeys immediately, eagerly. “So fucking good.”

Soonyoung drops a hand to Chan’s jaw and neck. He shifts his weight yet again and Chan accommodates him, opening his mouth wider, steadying his hands on Soonyoung’s hips. His grip is an anchor, the heat radiating from Soonyoung’s skin keeping him grounded as Soonyoung begins to fuck Chan’s mouth.

This is it. It’s perfect: Chan can feel Soonyoung unraveling and unwinding, letting go, letting go. Chan welcomes him, sinks his roots into him to keep him in place, keep him from floating off.

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything as he comes. A strangled scream rises from the pit of his stomach and Chan can feel the vibration in his teeth.

Chan has no choice but to swallow, though Soonyoung scoots back a bit to help him out. They kiss, messy but uncaring. Chan’s distracted by Soonyoung’s tongue, as usual, as Soonyoung resumes his place upon Chan’s dick, his throne.

“Hyung,” Chan chokes out, breaking away.

Soonyoung just grins as he finishes him off. He shimmies his hips, and the sinuous and sensual and sinful friction is more than enough to pull Chan over the edge. Arching his back, Soonyoung rides it out with him, eyes blissful slits on the pink-stained canvas of his face.

Their breathing fills the room. It expands with heat, soothing rather than stifling.

Huffing a breath, Soonyoung hops onto his feet. He staggers for a few steps; Chan giggles. Soonyoung doesn’t roll his eyes. He smiles. The warmth between them gains body, a bridge between them.

They clean up in quiet. The wordlessness has a weight of its own, and it’s nice. Soonyoung stops in the middle of wiping between his legs to flip his hair out of his eyes, and Chan laughs again.

“You’re still a brat,” Soonyoung says after a while.

Chan balls up the last towel on the bed and throws it in the corner of the room. Soonyoung looks up at him.

“You love it,” Chan says around a grin.

Soonyoung grins back, nodding.

“I love you,” he says as he flops on top of Chan’s chest.

A puff of breath pushes out of his mouth, but Chan returns the sentiment with ease: “I love you, too.”

Soonyoung makes a happy noise as he snuggles in close to Chan’s side. He rests his head against Chan’s shoulder and adds, “but if you act out on camera again, you’re gonna pay for it.”

Chan grins. “Bring it.”


End file.
